


I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee

by artloife4142



Category: Supernatural
Genre: As is the case with a 15.18 coda, Character Death, Coda for 15.18, Ficlet, M/M, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artloife4142/pseuds/artloife4142
Summary: (I'd be the dreadful need in the devoteeThat made him turn around)Castiel isn't quite sure what part of the situation the Empty has misunderstood.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee

**Author's Note:**

> (I'd be the last shred of truth  
> In the lost myth of true love (Hey ya)  
> I'd be the sweet feeling of release  
> Mankind now dreams of (Hey ya)  
> That's found in the last witness  
> Before the wave hits)  
> -talk, hozier
> 
> Love the vibe of this song, and imagining the 'after' for Cas gave me similar vibes. 1k words. Enjoy!

_ You do not sleep!  _

The entity snarls at him in fury. 

Castiel coughs and wheezes as he tries once more to face the entity directly. 

The entity promptly crushes him with an ever-present force that has him scrambling to breathe, even though Castiel is already aware he has no need to in the Empty. 

_ I force you into a loop of your last moments-your greatest joy and greatest regret-and yet, you struggle to wake! Do you comprehend how much effort that takes for an insignificant being such as you?? HOW LOUD IT IS!?  _ It suddenly bellows throughout his mind, before returning to its normal volume.  _ I keep most beings trapped in those moments for the rest of eternity!  _

The entity swoops closer, the face and figure now identical to Castiel's own last retained visage-that of Jimmy Novak. It drops into a more maniacal, threatening whisper,  _ Which moment will it take for you Angel of Thursday? What will keep you trapped in your loop for eternity? Sleeping endlessly. Finally quiet.  _

Castiel chokes on some more spit, before he finally rolls his eyes up to meet the identical ones the entity glares at him with. 

"It's nice to know that all-powerful cosmic entities are also at the mercy of their own hubris. At least it isn't limited to us simpler, celestial beings."

The entity shrieks at him again before it swoops away. Castiel feels his lungs being crushed, before his consciousness reasserts that the Nothing consists of just that: nothing. 

The entity can attempt to inflict whatever feeling it wants on him-manipulate his consciousness in whatever way to feel whatever it can think of. But aside from his own consciousness-there's nothing to inflict pain on, not physically anyway.

Castiel feels relief that he isn't being tortured on the material plane, before he once more feels like his skull is pressurizing and about to explode again. 

_ Do not think you can escape my grasp with simple logic, angel.  _

Castiel glares at the entity and feels only smugness rolling off it in waves. The entity is, unfortunately, correct. He can logically deduce that here he has no grace, no physical presence and no physical body. Similarly, he can understand that the only thing on this plane that is his own, is his willpower, intent and consciousness. But it's those things that the entity can manipulate with ease.

_Tell me angel,_ _before I decide it'll be more fun to tear you apart cell by cell, and make you scream as I rebuild you._

Castiel is not in so much pain that he can't laugh at the irony. The entity screeches loudly enough at that, that had Castiel had access to an actual physical body, it may have bled from the ears. 

"It's in the molecules. The cells."

_ Explain, _ snarls the entity. 

"My last moments," Castiel gasps through the pain, "They were with Dean Winchester. You've tiptoed through my tulips. You know who I love. What my happiest moment would be. But your hubris keeps you from seeing what that would do."

_ I'm not here to indulge in your pity party, Angel of Thursday. You're no different from any of the rest whose last regrets were tied up with their deaths. You should have obsessed over it. Been motivated to keep watching every moment of it in your endless dreams.  _

"It's the cells," Castiel says again, marveling that it has yet to understand. 

It snatches him up, choking him with its all-powerful, all-consuming force again. 

_ You're but another fool of an angel,  _ it whispers to him, forcefully pulling him into the same endless dream again. 

Castiel watches himself say the words, watches the joy that lights his face, watches the despair in Dean's, the tears that glitter at the corner of Dean's eyes, across his crow's feet, and where freckles should be. And again he realizes that this is but a dream. And it aches. 

He's put through the dream three times more, before he finds his consciousness drawing him out of it. 

_ Why?!  _ The entity screams at him,  _ WHY ARE YOU SO LOUD?!  _

"I rebuilt him you know. I know you know that I put him back together, molecule by molecule. I know his every cell, I know his wrinkles, even the calluses of his fingertips. And I knew exactly where to put every single one of his freckles."

Castiel's voice is but a whisper by the end. And the entity swirls around him, infuriated. Castiel can only huff out another near-silent laugh. 

"You cannot remake him-not entirely."

_ I can, actually. I remake everything in the dreams of these beings. It's what I do. Dreams will always retain the memories of the being's experiences. To the most minute detail.  _

"No, they don't. Because dreams are only ever a memory. They are not reality."

_ That means nothing _ . 

"It means everything actually. Because even my memory can't always recall every single detail-every single freckle. You have fundamentally misunderstood my joy. My joy was in the being. And being a memory will never be enough."

Castiel coughs again as the entity shrieks in anger. His mind conjures up the broad strokes of Dean's form as he curls into a ball. The memory is crystal clear, but also hazy, as he remembers the line of Dean's jaw, the dip of his collarbone, the twisting of his back muscles as he fought side by side with him. 

And Castiel desperately, desperately tries to rebuild the memory of Dean's crow feet crinkling in laughter, or of a tear rolling past the freckle to the left of the two other freckles near the corner of his eye. 

But of course… No matter how desperately he tries, he can never remember exactly how far to the left that freckle is placed. 

And he aches. 


End file.
